


Ghosts In The Limelight

by Kuraagins



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Theatre, Background characters - Freeform, F/F, Ghosts, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Theatre
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-06-28 20:57:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15714954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuraagins/pseuds/Kuraagins
Summary: The year is 1952, and a secret romance between doorman Marvin and actor Whizzer is destroyed with the murder of the star.66 years later, a revival of Whizzer’s final show - When The Curtain Falls - is in production, bringing a new romance between lead actors Charlotte and Cordelia into the spotlight, but the ghost of Whizzer Brown - restless from his unsolved murder - is unwilling to leave the production untouched.(Based off When The Curtain Falls by Carrie Hope Fletcher)





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I love Carrie Hope Fletcher and I just started reading her new book and I’m in LOVE with the story so I was dying to write a Falsettos AU based on it - any feedback is appreciated and I really hope you enjoy!

Marvin checked his watch as he roamed the theatre. 11:30. He still had time. 

He swept the floor of the lobby and wiped down the windows, as he had hung all the mirrors he would need hours ago. 

Marvin had loved the theatre ever since he was a boy. The lights, the songs, the costumes; the way people could transform completely into their characters when they were on the stage. He knew, of course, that he didn’t have what it took to become an actor, but he could never let go of the theatre as he grew past his teenage years. So, he settled for becoming a doorman, and he had worked at the Woodfold Theatre on Broadway for 67 years. 

At 11:40 he checked to make sure all the doors were locked, and they were. By 11:45 he had made it to the door that wasn’t locked, as it should be. He smiled, a little sadly, as he opened the door. 

The green, velvet chair that Whizzer Brown always sat in was facing away from him as usual, but Marvin could see the man’s youthful face in the reflection of his dressing table mirror. Just the way it was every year, on this day. 

“You kept me waiting Marv,” Whizzer teased - he was always a tease. 

“I didn’t mean to,” he apologised, walking forward and tentatively reaching out a hand to turn the velvet chair around. It was empty, of course. Every year Marvin hoped that he’d be able to see Whizzer, truly see him and not just some dusty reflection. But it was never to be. 

The reflection of the man he loved stared lovingly up at him, and Marvin turned his face away, ashamed of what he had become. 

“Don’t hide from me,” Whizzer demanded. Even in life, he was ever the diva. But it was hard for Marvin. How could he dare face Whizzer with his grey hair, wrinkled face and unfit body as the man he loved sat before him looking just the way he had 66 years ago. 

“I’m sorry,” Marvin said to him, wanting to reach out and cup Whizzer’s face, the way he had done when he was alive. But alas, he could only stare helplessly as Whizzer slowly stood. 

“You should have come earlier,” he whispered, eyes brimming with tears, “We only have a couple of minutes and... I fear our time is getting shorter every year,” 

“I’m sorry,” Marvin repeated, looking downwards, but this time with shame. 

“Don’t hide!” Whizzer cried out, and Marvin saw the reflection reach out to tilt his chin up, but quickly retract his hand before he could touch Marvin. They both knew they couldn’t interact with each other, not really, and it hurt too much to try. 

Marvin’s breath caught in his throat as he saw Whizzer start to walk slowly towards the door of the dressing room. His movements were jerky, as if he was trying to push against and immovable force. Perhaps, Marvin thought, that is exactly what he’s doing. 

“I have to go,” Whizzer told him, a tear rolling down his cheek, “It’s my big scene - although you’ve seen it a hundred times.” 

“No,” Marvin whispered, following him out of the dressing room, “Only 66,” 

Marvin chased after him, down the different hallways of the backstage of the Woodfold Theatre. Here, you will see, is why Marvin had hung the mirrors previously mentioned. Every inch of wall throughout the theatre had been covered so that he could follow after the man he loved; the star making his way to the stage. Marvin had learned in the first couple of years that Whizzer didn’t take the same path every time. Whether it was a game Whizzer was playing with him or an action he was forced to take, Marvin didn’t know. He’d never had the opportunity to ask him. 

He felt a little like a clumsy dancer, turning and stepping wildly to try and follow the inconsistent man, often having to backtrack and dart through doorways to find him again. 

Once Whizzer had made it to the props table Marvin knew it was hopeless to try and stop what would happen next. 

Whizzer cried out his name before he inevitably made it to the place he ended up every year: centre stage, where he belonged. 

Marvin stood frozen in the wings, and watched the scene play out in the mirrors he had hung on the back of the stage. 

_“And why, pray tell would she want to go with you?”_ Roger sneered. 

_“Because I love her, and she doesn’t belong to you,”_ Gordon snapped - Whizzer wasn’t himself anymore, he was completely immersed into his character. 

_”Actually,”_ Nancy interrupted softly, _“I... I do,”_ she lifted up her left hand to show Gordon and the audience the glistening ring on her finger. 

The phantom audience gasped, and Marvin even heard a couple of people let out quiet sobs. 

Gordon shakily pulled a revolver out of his pocket and pointed it at Roger. 

_“No!”_ Nancy screamed, flinging himself in front of Gordon to ensure he did not fire. 

_“Do you love him?”_ Gordon choked out. 

_“I... Well what does it matter? You’ll kill him either way!”_

_“You’ve known me my whole life and you think I’m that cruel?”_ Gordon asked sorrowfully, _“No, if you tell me you love him I’ll turn this gun around and shoot myself, for who am I deprive you of your love?”_

_“I-“_ Nancy began, but Gordon cut her of. 

_“But to marry someone for riches, or status when there is someone who loves you, truly loves you... Well I just know that I couldn’t do it,”_

That wasn’t his line, but Nancy continued seamlessly. 

_“I do not love him,”_ She stated, looking Gordon dead in the eye. 

Lights down, gunshot. 

That part went fine, but after that the performance fell apart. 

“Wait - Wait someone bring up the lights!” The actor playing Roger yelled. 

Someone up in the light box did as he asked, and shown to the whole theatre was Whizzer Brown, centre stage and in a pool of blood. 

The audience screamed and scrambled for the exit, cast and crew alike filled the stage to try and sort the situation out, but no one went near Whizzer. They all knew that he was dead, and beyond help. 

The ghostly scene from all those years ago started to fade away, but Marvin didn’t care about anyone but Whizzer, keeping his eyes trained on his lifeless body as he disappeared, as if he had never been there at all. 

“I’ll see you again next year, my love,” Marvin whispered, before getting to his task of taking all the mirrors down, silent tears falling down his face the whole night. 

The next day, Marvin sat in his office and read over the letter that had been sent to the theatre a week prior. 

“A revival of When The Curtain Falls,” he mused, “What do you make of that love?” The lamp on his desk flickered wildly. 

“Well I’ve seen the havoc you can cause for shows you like and the utter destruction you do to those you don’t... I don’t imagine you’ll be too happy to see Gordon survive every night,” the light flickered again. 

“It’s a girl playing him this time,” Marvin commented, “A same sex romance between Gordon and Nancy, which is rather ironic considering our situation, don’t you think?” The light switched off for a brief moment, before switching back on again, and Marvin chuckled. 

“Charlotte DuBois,” he murmured to himself, looking at the cast list attached to the letter, “I have a feeling you might regret saying yes to this part.”


	2. Setting Yourself On Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m on holiday rn so I’m writing this... so fast. There’ll be another chapter up tomorrow which I’m super proud of so there’s that!!

Charlotte switched on her phone (which she had turned to the lowest brightness setting) for the tenth time in 3 minutes as she leaned against the wall in the dingy, dark supply closet. 

This is where she would often be found in the early mornings before rehearsals started, but no one had to know that. 

No one except Cordelia Stevens, who right on cue cracked the closet door open, letting in a sliver of yellow light before closing it behind her. 

“Classy,” She commented, like she did every time they met like this, before Charlotte silenced her by wrapping her arms around her waist and kissing her gently. 

Cordelia sighed into the kiss, heart fluttering until she remembered that she was in a supply closet having a secret relationship with her costar. 

She pulled away as she remembered this. “Do we really have to keep doing this?”  
She asked, staring Charlotte in the eyes - or at least, as well as she could considering the lack of light. 

“I thought you said you really liked me,” Charlotte teased, keeping her hands on Cordelia despite the hostility. 

“I mean, sneaking around at-“ she checked her watch- “8:55 before anyone else can even hope to catch us like this,”

Cordelia didn’t like that Charlotte insisted they keep their relationship a secret. Firstly, it made her confused about what their relationship actually was. She genuinely did like Charlotte a lot, and Charlotte said that she felt the same but they certainly didn’t act like a couple. They would hide out in secluded areas of the theatre as they would embrace, and on the rare occasion they were in public together, they were nothing but strictly professional. 

Secondly, it made Cordelia paranoid whenever they were alone like this. She felt like someone was watching them, that they could burst in at any moment and expose them. The rational part of her brain however, would always insist that this wasn’t true, and that the secrecy was messing with her brain. 

Thirdly, Cordelia Stevens had never been lucky in love. Being a lesbian of course, hadn’t helped that. Theatre companies were filled with gay men, but Delia was rarely lucky enough to find another gay or bisexual woman. And when she was, her relationships were often torn apart by contracts, or transfers, and worst of all: cheating. 

“You know I’m not exactly what you need right now,” Charlotte stated simply, reaching her hand up to play with Cordelia’s curly hair, “And besides, it wasn’t long ago that I broke up with Beth. Very publicly. If it got out that we were seeing each other so soon after all that our show would be wrecked from the scandal of it all.” 

Ah yes. _Beth._

Cordelia was plagued with the unfortunate knowledge of knowing who Charlotte was before they were announced to be working together. 

She was new to theatre, instead having spent the last ten years building up her film and television career, most commonly known for playing the lead in some hospital drama. 

Although she wasn’t quite a household name, she was definitely within the public eye. And when you were in the public eye, there were stories. 

Most recently, Charlotte’s ex girlfriend Beth had sold her story to all the tabloids, talking about how Charlotte had broken her heart. 

Cordelia knew that she was not the type of girl Charlotte usually went for. After their first... altercation - Cordelia had gone home and poured over magazine articles depicting Charlotte with glitzy, glamorous models who had flawless skin and wore size 2 clothes. She thought about herself compared to this, with her frizzy, unruly hair; sweatpants she wore to rehearsal every day; and skin that was often prone to acne. She couldn’t help but feel a little self conscious, and wondered if this was part of the reason why Charlotte wanted to hide her. 

“You’re right, you’re not what I need,” Delia stated stubbornly, “But you’re what I want.” 

“Well, you’re what I want too,” Charlotte chuckled. 

“Then why are you hiding me in a supply closet?” She hissed. 

“I’m not hiding you. _We’re_ hiding. Together.” 

“In that case, next time can we hide somewhere that doesn’t have a rotting mouse corpse in the wall?” She requested sarcastically. 

“Is that what that smell is?” Charlotte asked genuinely, sniffing hard and trying to place the foul smell that had been lingering, and cringing when she realised that Cordelia was right. 

“Don’t worry about that though. It’s the rats in the cast that are the real problem,” she smirked, despite the truth to her statement. 

Cordelia was quite the opposite to Charlotte; notorious in theatre circles as being “nothing but a pleasure to work with.” 

She had spent years working her way up from the ensemble, eventually becoming an understudy and then getting principle parts - although she hadn’t had too many of them, and had never been nominated for a Tony or anything. 

Her problem was (and no one she worked with ever saw this as a problem) that she couldn’t say no. 

‘Do you mind doing an hour extra rehearsal Cordelia?’ ‘Will you move this set piece please Delia?’ ‘Cordelia! Megan needs help during that quick change, you’ll do it right?’

All these demands and Cordelia was never anything but happy to help. She was kind and trusting by nature, meaning that she had no idea when people were exploiting her. 

It was during the closing party for her off broadway production of Oliver! (which she had organised of course) that she had stowed herself away in an empty room and cried for over an hour. 

That was maybe her toughest show. Next to performing eight shows a week she often found herself covering parts she was learning right before going onstage for sick cast members; moving set pieces even though that was the stage crew’s job; and to top it all off she’d caught her girlfriend having sex with the actor playing Bill Sykes in her dressing room. 

Eventually, the kind old woman who was playing Widow Corney found her, and helped her calm down with breathing exercises. 

“Never set yourself on fire to keep other people warm sweetheart,” She has told her, and Delia had lived by those words ever since. 

Until now, when she could feel the flames licking at her feet as she heard Charlotte laugh at her comment, and allowed herself to be pulled in for another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to hmu on tumblr if u want its @kuraagins :)


	3. Under the Moonlight

Theatre work was not something Charlotte had been eager to partake in before When The Curtain Falls. In her mind, theatre was something for those who weren’t talented enough to make it in film or TV. However after playing Blanche in a month long run of A Streetcar Named Desire, Charlotte realised that theatre was hard fucking work - way harder than the long days spent on set recording a couple of lines and then eating from the catering table whilst waiting for the lighting crew to set up. 

Her agent had been eager for Charlotte to branch out after her doctor days on _‘Rose Hospital’_ were over, but after Streetcar it was difficult to find Charlotte any other work on the stage. 

“Will you at least consider Cinderella?” Amber had begged her on the phone. 

“I’m not playing Cinderella in an off - off Broadway show,” She scowled. 

“Well that’s good!” Charlotte could practically feel her nodding through the phone, “Because they’re not offering you Cinderella, they’re offering you a step sister,” 

Charlotte immediately hung up her phone, before staring at it for a moment, then throwing it at the wall. 

Of course they wouldn’t let a black lesbian play Cinderella - an ugly step sister was far more suited to her. 

She scoffed, she’d been dealing with racism her whole career. Scratch that, she’d been dealing with it her whole life. 

Most of the time people didn’t realise they were being racist, especially when it came to casting, and she’d often be called ‘oversensitive’. But she knew that in western society people were indoctrinated to associate ‘pretty’ with your typical skinny, blonde, white girls. 

She’d taken the call for When The Curtain Falls mostly out of spite for the Cinderella crew. Her playing the lead in a broadway production? Yes please. Of course she was furious when she found out that her manager had failed to mention that she was auditioning for the male lead, but was slightly sated when she was told that they were changing the character to be a woman, and that they were auditioning exclusively queer women for the leads. 

The casting directors loved her at her first audition, and she was offered the part without even a single callback. 

At the first rehearsal, Charlotte was embarrassed to admit that she was a little awkward when meeting Cordelia, her costar. 

Charlotte had gone for a handshake and Cordelia went for a hug. Realising this, they both swapped actions at the same time. After a few moments of moving their arms around awkwardly, they managed to pull each other into a hug - when Cordelia promptly stood on Charlotte’s toes. 

“I’m so sorry!” She squeaked, mortified to have trodden on the (very attractive) star of the show. 

“No, no it’s fine,” Charlotte reassured her, and then they just stood there, both of their faces sporting forced smiles while they were cringing internally. 

After several seconds of no one speaking, their director - Michael - broke the silence. “Well, I hope you two will enjoy working together!” And then the rehearsal was set into motion. 

Charlotte couldn’t even concentrate during the read through. She missed cues and completely zoned out, her script practically discarded on her lap as she spent the whole time staring over at Cordelia Stevens. 

She was sure that most of the cast had probably put her down as “the lazy television star who isn’t willing to put the work in with theatre,” but she couldn’t bring herself to care, especially as she caught Cordelia look away quickly when she lifted her head again.

During their lunch break, Delia sat in the corner with her best friend since college, Connor. 

“She’s definitely into you, you know?” He told her conspiratorially as he pushed himself into a split. 

“Connor stop, I know you’re just that to show off in front of everyone,” she diverted the question, instead looking pointedly at his spindly legs split widely on the floor. 

“Actually I’m only trying to show off in front of one person,” he sighed, gazing over at another cast member as he moved his legs to sit properly, “But my love life isn’t the one in question here, yours is,” 

“I don’t know what your talking about,” she feigned ignorance as she munched on her sandwich. 

“Charlotte DuBois is totally checking you out!” Connor insisted, “And you’re checking her out too - don’t try and deny I I can see!” 

“Well, she’s pretty,” Delia admitted, “But let’s not forget that she’s a television star so I’m probably not her type,”

“Not her type my ass! She was useless in that read through all because she was too busy swooning over you,” he giggled. 

“Maybe she was useless because she’s not used to theatre. Like, at all,” She stated pointedly. 

“Regardless,” Connor insisted, “She definitely doesn’t know how attractive she is, and people like that aren’t picky about who they date,” 

“Do you really think that?” She asked, rolling her eyes. 

“Do I think she’s attractive? Well if I wasn’t gay I could probably be into her,” he shrugged. 

“ _No_ , do you think she doesn’t know she’s attractive? And also are you trying to imply that I’m not good looking?” She pressed in a mock offended tone in relation to Connor’s earlier statement. 

“You’re beautiful Delia! But...  
you’re not really the conventional type of attractive. Which is a good thing! All those models movie stars usually date are kind of scary looking anyway,” he insisted, “And as for her not knowing about herself well,” they both looked over as Sam (probably the only straight guy in the company) who smirked and took hold of her hand as they chatted, “She doesn’t even realise that he’s flirting with her. If she knew that she was drop dead gorgeous she’d be all over him, even if she is a lesbian. People who know they’re attractive like attention no matter where it comes from,” Connor stated very matter of factly. 

On the other side of the room, Sam was practically begging Charlotte to go out with the rest of the cast that night. 

“It’ll be fun!” He promised, “And everyone’s going, it’s like a ‘get to know each other’ night out,” 

“I don’t know,” Charlotte sighed as she backed up a little, accidentally bumping into Cordelia who had wandered over to pick up her script. “Hey! Are you going tonight?” She asked her. 

“Going...?” Cordelia asked cautiously, she was never really invited on cast nights out. 

“Cordelia’s not really a big party person,” Sam answered for her, but quickly amended his answer when he saw the unimpressed look on both women’s faces. “I - I mean you’re invited, of course! But I just, I didn’t think you’d want to come,” 

Cordelia took one look at Charlotte’s hopeful face and in a swift decision to get closer to her attractive costar and spite Sam she smiled. “I’ll be there.” 

.•° ✿ °•.  
°•. ✿ .•°

“I really don’t want to be here,” She groaned to the bartender. She was far too sober to deal with the massive crowd of drunken, sweaty bodies, and wanted nothing more than to go home and crawl into her own bed. 

“I can tell Miss Stevens,” the bartender chuckled. 

“Y-you know who I am?” Delia asked incredulously. 

The man nodded, “I saw you in The Red Shoes three years ago, you were only ensemble but you were amazing. Then you landed Nancy in Oliver! and your performance rivalled even Shani Wallis!” He paused as he got a little excited, “I’m sorry, I’m probably over stepping a little here, I’m just a huge fan,” 

“No, no it’s fine - more than fine,” Cordelia laughed. She never really had fan interactions past stage door and it made her heart soar to be recognised. 

“Here,” the bartender said as he slid a drink over to her, “On the house. And I hope your evening gets better,” he smiled and walked away. 

Cordelia sat and sipped her drink, feeling a little better after talking to the bartender but still wanting to be anywhere but in that bar. 

“Hey,” 

Cordelia jumped a little as a voice appeared in her left ear. She turned her head to see none other than Miss DuBois sat on the stool next to her. 

“H-hi,” she replied, the alcohol in her system doing nothing to calm her nerves around her attractive costar. 

“You look incredibly thrilled to be here,” Charlotte stated drolly. 

“Sam was right. Clubs really aren’t my thing,” she groaned. 

“Well then let’s get out of here,” Charlotte laughed, extending her hand out. Cordelia didn’t even think as she grabbed it, and before she knew it her and Charlotte were off into the night, laughing and talking loudly as they strolled down the road together, hand in hand. 

“You really don’t believe in ghosts?” Cordelia cried out, after Charlotte had replied negatively to her question, “Well prepare to be thoroughly spooked Miss DuBois. Broadway theatres are haunted by ghosts, and that’s just a fact,” 

“I’ve never had a paranormal experience and until I do I stand by my statement that ghosts don’t exist,” Charlotte said, a little teasingly. 

“Say things like that and you’ll be the first to be haunted,” Delia stated solemnly, before promptly bursting into laughter again. 

They ended up at a small park, a colourful children’s play area in the center of it. Cordelia thoughtlessly wandered towards it, hoisting a leg over the short fence that surrounded it, even though the gate was wide open a few yards away. 

“Oh, so you’re a rebel are you, Miss Stevens?” Charlotte chuckled, following after her. 

“Only in bad company,” Delia giggled, pulling Charlotte over to the roundabout and spinning it round before hopping on it herself. 

In her not-so-sober state, she flung herself at Charlotte as the roundabout made her dizzy, but ended up accidentally tackling her to the grassy floor below. 

“Oh my god,” she whispered, horrified when Charlotte didn’t move, “Have I killed you? Oh god the producers’ll _kill_ me if I murdered their big star,” she wailed. 

“Oh that’s what you care about?” Charlotte scoffed, cracking an eye open and propping herself up on her elbow. 

“You’re awful!” Cordelia gasped, playfully hitting Charlotte’s shoulder as she sat up properly. 

They sat in comfortable silence for a bit after that, Cordelia picking at the grass on the floor. 

“You’re really good in the show you know,” Charlotte told her, looking over at her with a genuine smile. 

“Shut up,” she blushed, looking at the floor, unable to deal with compliments from a pretty girl in her drunken state. 

“You are,” Charlotte insisted, and Cordelia threw a handful of grass at her. Immediately feeling bad, she started to pick the blades out of her hair, but Charlotte gently took hold of her wrist and brought it to her face, leaning in and kissing over each of her fingers softly. 

‘She’s drunk,’ Cordelia tried to explain this to herself as her breath caught in her throat at the affection, but once Charlotte leaned in and pressed her lips against hers she couldn’t even think properly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next chapter: Charlotte and Cordelia talk about their ~relationship~ and old man Marvin returns


	4. Spark

The morning after, Cordelia woke up in her bed with a sense of dread washing over her; a sort of sick anticipation settling in her stomach. 

She didn’t know why she felt like this, her and Charlotte hadn’t even done anything other than a little kiss. 

Okay, it was kind of a big kiss. But that was besides the point. 

Groaning as she rolled out of bed, she thought about having to face Charlotte at rehearsals that day. Should she bring the kiss up? And if she did would that mean it would happen again? Did she even want it to happen again? 

Her head was spinning as she padded into the kitchen to pour herself a cup of coffee to help with the dull, pounding headache that she was dealing with from last nights alcohol. 

Cordelia liked her apartment. It was small, yes, but it wasn’t like she needed the space when she lived alone. Over the years she had hung up posters and playbills of all the shows she had been in and although she didn’t have much of a decorating budget, she liked to think that fairy lights could solve pretty much anything. 

As she picked up a cookie off the tray that she had baked them on a couple of days prior (it might not have been the most healthy breakfast but she was hungover damnit she was allowed) she flicked through a stray magazine that she recalled having an article relating to Charlotte in it. 

It was a few months old and about her relationship with Beth. They were on a beach together somewhere abroad, with Beth clinging possessively to her arm and smiling up at her. A twinge of jealousy coursed through her body before she realised that there was something odd about Charlotte. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes and she seemed far more interested in the sandy floor than the admittedly very attractive woman practically throwing herself at her. 

Checking her watch, Delia saw she still had an hour and a half before even needing to leave the house, and decided to rifle through the rest of her magazines to do a little... research on Charlotte. 

.•° ✿ °•.  
°•. ✿ .•°

Quite frankly, Delia couldn’t wait for The Wizard Of Oz to close. 

That was an awful thing, she knew, to wish a closing on another show. But it was going to close anyway she just wished it would hurry up and finish already. 

While it was still running at the Woodfold none of their cast could move into their dressing rooms, and Cordelia couldn’t wait to transfer all of her pictures and memorabilia from past shows into this new theatre. 

At that moment, the Woodfold didn’t feel like a home. They were rehearsing on a stage with someone else’s set and getting kicked out when the other show came in to prepare for their evening performances. 

Cordelia felt comfortable when a theatre felt like a home and the cast felt like a family. And currently, she was definitely not feeling any of those things happening. 

She hung around a little awkwardly backstage next to Dorothy’s dressing room (which would soon become hers). She was early - despite her morning spent reading tabloid magazines - and didn’t quite know what to do with herself. 

However before she could decide whether she wanted to make her way up to the stage or not, a voice called out to her. 

“Coffee for Cordelia Stevens?” 

She looked up to see Charlotte with a cheeky grin coming down the stairs with two cups of coffee in her hands. 

“I already had a cup this morning,” she stated, but still took the cup when Charlotte extended it towards her. 

Embarrassingly, after taking a single sip she spluttered with surprise. 

“How did you know that my exact coffee order is a mocha with almond milk and exactly two pumps of caramel syrup?” She asked incredulously. 

Charlotte shrugged nonchalantly, “I heard you ask Connor to go and pick you one up when he went on a coffee run yesterday.” 

Cordelia was a little surprised that Charlotte had actually gone through some effort to remember that, so instead she just said, “Stalker,” teasingly before taking another sip. 

“Whatever you say, honey,” Charlotte smirked. 

“Don’t call me ‘honey’!” She exclaimed, although she was slightly embarrassed at how her heart sped up at the sound of Charlotte’s affectionate pet name. 

“Well I’ve already kissed you, it’s not like I can cross many more boundaries worse than that,” She stated lightly, and Cordelia tensed a little as she said that. ‘She’s brought it up!’ She thought, ‘What does that even mean? Does she like me? Does she want it to happen again? Or was it all just a mistake?’ 

“Don’t you think I should decide what boundaries you get to cross with me?” She asked, frustrated at the shyness in her voice. 

“Would you kiss me again?” Charlotte blurted out, “If the option was there?” 

“That depends on whether the option is there or not,” she replied quietly. 

Charlotte didn’t speak, instead just leant forward and captured Cordelia’s lips in a sweet kiss. She couldn’t deny that she felt something when they kissed. A little spark in her chest that grew and grew until Charlotte pulled away far too early. 

She stood in stunned silence as Charlotte looked down sheepishly. 

“I don’t... This is going to sound so bitchy,” she sighed, “But I don’t really want anyone else to know about us,” 

“Right,” Cordelia stared blankly, her voice and expression unreadable, “I mean we haven’t even spoken about what this... what we are,” 

“So let’s speak,” 

“What, right now?” She blinked with surprise. 

“I don’t see why not,” Charlotte stated. She was right though. They were alone and already kind of on the topic. 

“Well go on then,” Delia prompted, wanting Charlotte to go first because of her own nervousness about the whole thing. 

“Just so we’re clear, I want this,” Charlotte gestured between them. 

“And what is ‘this’?” She asked, putting air quotes around Charlotte’s vague statement. 

“Fun?” She stated, sounding unsure of the suggestion even though she had said it herself, “I just, I can’t do serious or committed right now,” she amended, “You know I just got out of a pretty serious think, don’t you?” 

Cordelia nodded dumbly. 

“I guess I just want to spend time with you. And maybe occasionally make out,” she said this jokingly, attempting to alleviate the tense atmosphere, “But just, no labels or angst or anything,” 

“Making out without the angst,” Delia repeated, “Sounds perfect to me,” she let out a forced laugh, despite her statement being completely false. 

“I’m glad we talked about this,” Charlotte nodded, throwing her empty coffee cup into a nearby bin, “Let’s go sign in,” she suggested, and they walked together to the sign in sheet, Cordelia feeling a little dizzy after the heavy conversation they had just had. 

The pair greeted the doorman, Marvin, who was sat in his nearby office as they approached the sheet with a polite wave. He nodded back at them, lowering his newspaper and with a kind smile. 

“I’m gonna head up to the stage,” Cordelia informed Charlotte after hastily scribbling down her name, dashing off before Charlotte had even picked up the pen. 

Marvin sat and watched. His desk lamp switched itself off before the light above Charlotte’s head started to flicker madly. 

The girl let out a little laugh, “No wonder people think this place is haunted,” she joked, before following quickly after Cordelia. 

She left and the light stopped flickering, Marvin’s desk lamp turning itself back on. He smiled softly at the dim light. 

“You have no idea,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! Any feedback at all is appreciated <333


	5. (Not) In The Hands Of Fools

“Can we have Charlotte to the stage please?” Michael called out. 

“Technically I’ve still got three and a half minutes of this break left,” she protested, before seeing Michaels pointed look and throwing off her hoodie in frustration. “Only because I love you and this show so much,” she teased as she climbed up the steps in front of the stage to join the director. 

As soon as she was in an arms length of Michael, he was thrusting a gun towards her. 

“Jesus Christ!” She cursed in shock. 

“Looks real doesn’t it?” A woman suddenly appeared behind Michael. 

“Charlotte, this is Jane, our stunts coordinator,” he introduced the two women. 

“Pleasure to finally meet the murderer,” she grinned and took Charlotte’s hand to shake it firmly, “The gun’s hardly historically accurate, but Michael liked the aesthetic of this one,” she rolled her eyes and Charlotte found herself nodding along, mostly out of fear of the woman. She had a certain air that made Charlotte a little uncomfortable around her, despite the fact that she’d been nothing but nice in the two seconds that she had known her. 

“That doesn’t matter, the audience will never know,” Michael defended himself, “Besides it’s not a real gun anyway,” 

“It’s a blank firing gun,” Jane explained, “There’ll be gunpowder in there every night to make a bang for the audience, but nothing’s coming out of that gun,” 

“Not that you need to worry about that Charlotte,” Michael interjected, “Our assistant stage manager will be loading it for you every night. All Jane needs to teach you to do is aim and fire it,” 

“Wait, she’s not loading her own gun?” Jane asked. 

“Is there a problem with that?” Michael blinked. 

“I just pity whoever’s in that final scene then,” she scoffed. 

“Why?” Charlotte asked hesitantly, completely unaware of what was meant by that. 

“Because of what happened with the original cast,” 

“I don’t think now’s really the best time to talk about this,” Michael said gently, but with a bite of warning. 

“Why not? The girl’s got to know the dangers of a gun and that story might just scare her into not messing around with it,” Jane stated, and before Michael could respond (he was having some inner conflict because Jane was actually right) she was off. “It was 1952, the first and last time this show was performed,” she spoke solemnly, in the same tone people used when telling ghost stories, “During that show they used a real gun. Never real bullets, just a bit of wax and gunpowder, which should have been harmless but still... someone was killed.” 

“ _Killed?_ ” Charlotte choked out. Dear lord no one had warned her about that one when she had taken the part. 

“The guy playing your character, actually. No one knows how it happened - he was meant to be the one firing the gun for pete’s sake - but he was shot right through the heart in front of the whole audience to see. They say it took months to clean all the blood off this stage-“ 

“Thank you, Jane, we get the picture,” Michael cut her off. 

Turning the fake gun in her hands she noticed a tiny plaque on the side. “‘Whizzer Brown. 1931 -1952’” she read aloud, quietly to herself. 

“All I’m saying is, you might want to keep an eye on that gun when it’s being loaded and give it another check before you go on stage and use it,” Jane warned. 

“What? No one in this cast is going to purposefully kill anyone,” Charlotte let out an incredulous bark of laughter.

“Bet that’s what they thought back then, yet here lies Whizzer Brown, god rest his soul,” Jane sighed, “Guns always look so harmless when they’re not in the hands of fools, don’t they?”

.•° ✿ °•.  
°•. ✿ .•°

“Is it bad? Is our show bad?” Charlotte hissed hysterically to Cordelia as Michael furiously scribbled notes down from his desk in the audience. 

It was tech week, and they’d been rehearsing the dance scene in the bar for an hour and a half. Set pieces had broke, lights weren’t working and through all of this Michael was just getting more and more feverish, which was stressing the cast out even more. 

“Tech weeks are always like this,” Cordelia reassured her, taking her hand soothingly across the small table they were sat at,  
“Trust me, next week will be a breeze compared to other opening weeks I’ve had in shows.” 

“What’s the worst that’s ever happened to you?” Charlotte asked, “And will it be worse than me completely butchering this role and dishonouring the memory of Whizzer Brown?” 

“First of all, that’s not going to happen,” Cordelia affirmed, “But if it were, yes I’ve been in worse shows.” At Charlotte’s pressing gaze she continued, “Okay, So 6 years ago I was an ensemble member in this dramatic, serious play, and we had a big film star playing the lead, right? Well on opening night he’s only gone out and got himself wasted right before he goes onstage. Drugs, drink, we didn’t know what it was, but we couldn’t let him go on, so we had to announce to the audience that his understudy was going on. Now here’s the thing, you know understudies don’t get rehearsed in until after opening night? The poor guy had to go on stage with a script and in his ensemble costume,” 

“What was his ensemble costume?” Charlotte asked, biting back a giggle. 

“He was a _clown_ from the circus,” Delia told her, and the pair immediately burst into fits of laughter, until Michael shouted down the microphone: “Can we have quiet on stage please!” 

They calmed themselves down, until Charlotte glanced over at Cordelia and snorted involuntarily. Cordelia’s shoulder’s shook with the force of trying to keep herself silent, and she had to scrunch her eyes shut to stop herself looking at Charlotte and setting herself off all over again. 

“Okay, lets take the scene from the top please!” Michael announced, and Cordelia forced herself into character as the lights shifted. She opened her eyes again and she was Nancy, sat in the bar with Gordon. 

“Dance with me, won’t you?” Nancy asked delicately. 

“I think it’s for the best I stay sat here, don’t you think?” Gordon grumbled. 

“What are you so scared of? No one here knows who we are and if Roger were to somehow arrive, we’d be gone before he could even think about opening that door.” 

She tried to tug her partner up but Gordon stayed firmly sat, motioning for the bartender to bring him another drink. 

“I don’t care a wit about Roger,” She stated simply. 

“Then why won’t you dance with me?” 

“I... I never learned how to dance,” 

A jazz band struck up and the bartender sauntered over, sliding a whiskey over to Gordon before taking Nancy by the hand and leading her centre stage. A chorus of dancers surrounded them, dancing the same choreography but no one was as graceful as Nancy was. Her burgundy dress twirled around her as she seemed to be leading the bartender, instead of the other way round. As she smiled dazzlingly, being twirled effortlessly, she didn’t even notice Gordon’s sharp cry as a mysterious figure reached out from the darkness and dragged him into the wings. 

Another man appeared on the balcony above them, and the dance was cut short as the patrons screamed at the sight of a gun. Everyone barrelled past Nancy from every direction, attempting to find cover, but she was caught in the middle as she looked wildly around for the missing woman. 

“Gordon? Gordon!” She screeched, before the stage lights plunged them all into darkness. 

“That was good everyone! Much better!” Michael praised. “We’ll run it again in five, the lighting team missed a couple of cues,” 

Charlotte paced a little in the wings, thankful to have a little moment to herself amidst all the chaos that was tech week. She wandered by a stray costume rack and paused at a weird sensation that settled over her body. 

She listened closely, swearing that she could hear someone else breathing alongside her own gentle exhales. 

Padding forward a little, she jumped backwards and let out a little gasp as she saw a figure in the darkness. 

“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” the figure, now identifiable as a man, spoke. 

“That’s okay,” Charlotte spoke, clutching her chest slightly from the fright, “I - I suppose we haven’t been introduced. I’m Charlotte, playing Gordon in the show?” 

“I know,” the voice replied, “You’re very good.” And as Charlotte’s eyes adjusted she realised she was talking to the man who ran stage door. 

“Thanks,” she laughed a little bashfully, “Do you like the show?” 

“Let’s just say I know it like the back of my hand,” he chuckled in return, “But don’t waste your time talking with me, I’m sure that director of yours’ll give you an earful if you don’t get back on stage soon.”

“Oh no, I don’t mind. And I might be from TV but I’m not one of _those_ actors - or at least I hope I’m not. I’m trying my best to learn all of the crew’s names too, they’re just as important as us actors. Probably even more so,” 

“In that case I’m Marvin,” he informed her, “And I’ve worked at this theatre for 67 years, I can assure you you’re in good hands,” 

“Thank you Marvin,” she grinned, just as Michael called out her name, “I guess I’ll speak to you again!” She promised before jogging towards the stage. 

Marvin slowly wandered over to the props table as Charlotte left, ignoring the pain he felt all over his body, the dull ache in his chest that suddenly turned sharp, a reminder of what he’d lost. He traced his fingers lightly over the prop gun, not unlike the way that he had once caressed Whizzer Brown. “Why did they have to cast someone so much like you?” he whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you know!! There are going to be chapters set in 1952 exploring Whizzer and Marvin’s relationship before he yknow, died. But for the next couple it’s still going to be abt chardelia with hints of ghost whizzer and old man Marvin
> 
> Thank you for reading!!! Likes and comments are very much appreciated <3


	6. Blurry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took a little long to get out! I accidentally deleted the first half of the chapter the first time I wrote it and I've been super busy with trying to finish up all my college work before I go back this week. Hopefully I should be able to put out weekly updates once I start back at college again but either way this story is 100% getting finished! Also this chapter is really similar to the one in the actual book Carrie Hope Fletcher I'm sorry

“Delia?” Charlotte swung through the door to Cordelia’s dressing room. 

“Hey, you,” Cordelia replied. She was sat at her dressing room table wiping lipstick off her face. At Charlotte’s arrival she started to scrub a little harder, just in case she wanted to kiss her. 

Charlotte entered the room and sauntered over to lean on Cordelia’s chair, looking at her through her reflection in the mirror. It sounds cheesy, but Cordelia swore that time seemed to slow down as soon as Charlotte entered her vicinity. Their eyes met through the glass and for just a moment, the noise of the bustling New York city outside became muted, and even the little particles of dust seemed to halt. And as soon as the moment had arrived, it was gone. 

“What are you doing tonight?” She asked coyly, and Delia already knew her well enough to know that she only used that tone when she wanted something. 

“Going home,” Cordelia stated lightly.

“Could I perhaps persuade you to do something else?” She smirked a little, cocking an eyebrow. Cordelia was a little frustrated at the profound effect that Charlotte seemed to have on her. From the moment the other woman had stepped in the room her heartbeat had picked up, but now that she was seemingly asking her to spend time with her that night, her whole body felt like it was thumping madly. 

“That depends,” Cordelia teased, not willing to give herself up that easily, “I’m not going to change such thrilling plans for just anything, you know,” 

Charlotte smiled, loving the way that Cordelia played with her. “I was wondering if you wanted to come back to my place tonight? Maybe?” Her fingers reached out to play with a bit of string that had come loose from the top of the chair anxiously. 

“Normally you ask someone out for dinner and a movie before you start inviting them to come back to your apartment,” She turned in her chair to face her, “Bold of you to assume I want to skip those steps,” 

“We can do dinner and a movie! Just… at my place,” She grinned toothily and that sinking feeling of not being good enough to be seen in public with TV star Charlotte DuBois started to settle in the pit of Cordelia’s stomach once again. 

“Is this about sex? It sounds like it’s about sex,” She stated airily, turning back to the mirror and picking up her makeup wipe to continue scrubbing at her face. 

“It’s not about sex,” Charlotte reassured her with a light chuckle, placing a hand on top of her shoulder. 

“So, you’re telling me, if I went back with you to your place tonight, we wouldn’t have sex?” She questioned, tossing her makeup wipe into the bin under the table and pulling her makeup bag towards her, pulling out a concealer to fix up where she had just wiped her face. 

“If that’s what you wanted,” She stated, and Cordelia glanced up in the mirror to see that her expression was sincere. 

“Am I that easy to resist?” She asked with a raised eyebrow, wondering how much she should tease the other woman before it started being cruel. 

“No- I want to have sex with you!” Charlotte defended herself. 

“So, it is about sex?” Delia pressed, pulling out her foundation and squirting some onto the back of her hand before swiping it over her face with a brush. 

“No!” Charlotte sighed, “I want to have sex with you, but me inviting you to come over to my place isn’t about sex,” 

“Sure thing, DuBois,” Cordelia laughed. 

“Do… Do you want to have sex with me?” She asked hesitantly, removing her hand from Cordelia’s shoulder and wandering round to lean back on the table, looking at her face to face. 

Delia paused for a long time, taking in Charlotte’s expression before stating, “I’m undecided." Of course, sleeping with Charlotte was a very tempting offer for Cordelia, but she’d had too much heartbreak in the past with girls dumping her the moment she slept with them. She liked Charlotte too much for that to be the case with them. 

“Well, just so you know, I’m decided,” Charlotte told her, with a far too serious tone. 

“I’m sure you are,” Delia snorted with amusement.

“We don’t have to have sex Delia. Ever. I want you to spend the night with me because I enjoy your company and I want to enjoy some time with you outside of work,” She reached out tentatively to cup Cordelia’s face and she decided to take pity on her, lowering her defences and leaning into Charlotte’s touch. Her thumb stroked gently across her cheekbone, careful not to smudge her freshly applied makeup, “This isn’t about sex.”

Cordelia let her eyes flutter shut as she hummed contentedly, allowing herself this moment of pure, thoughtless bliss as she drowned in Charlotte’s attention. As much as she wanted to protest, she knew that Charlotte had already won her over. Despite her fears she knew Charlotte. Knew that she was kind, well-intentioned and that she liked her. Which is why she hated those nagging voices in the back of her head reminding her of her self-worth and trust issues, of all the ways she had been hurt before by women who had also sworn that they wouldn’t hurt her. 

“Okay,” She let out in a breath, so quiet and subtle that Charlotte almost missed it. 

“Okay?” Charlotte repeated with a grin, drawing her now-sweaty hand away from Cordelia’s face. 

“Okay!” She laughed, throwing all caution to the wind, “I’ll come back with you tonight. That does not mean I’m going to have sex with you though – just so we’re clear here,”

“Of course,” Charlotte nodded, “Yeah- uh- okay!”

“Everything alright?” Delia asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Absolutely,” She affirmed hesitantly, “It’s just… Well I didn’t really expect you to say yes so now I’m trying to remember how messy my apartment is,” She bit her lip.

Later that evening, they sat next to each other on the subway home, which was unusually quiet considering they were travelling from Broadway. They sat at a respectable distance away from each other that Cordelia had set, although she allowed herself to hold her hand subtly in between their legs. She was even fine when Charlotte picked up her hand to press a soft kiss to the back of it – that was until they heard the giggling. 

Their heads whipped around in unison to see group of three teenage girls sat at the other end of the carriage, not even trying to conceal the fact that they were staring at them. As Charlotte returned Cordelia’s hand to her lap she smiled at the girls, which prompted even more giggling. 

“Shit,” She murmured through her still grinning mouth. 

“What?” Delia whispered back.

“I think they’re going to come over,” She said, pulling out her phone and opening and closing random apps in order to look busy. Cordelia looked at the girls through the frizzy hair covering her face and saw that one of them was furiously digging through her bag, looking for something. 

“How can you tell?” She asked. Delia was aware of the difference in fame between the two of them. After shows she would meet kind, respectful and often shy fans at the stage door, before making her way across the city to her apartment where no one could tell her apart from any other civilian walking down the street. And Charlotte… Well let’s just say that she had tonnes and tonnes of fan mail arriving at the theatre for her before the show had even opened. Cordelia wasn’t as used to being recognised outside of the Broadway sphere, but clearly Charlotte was well versed in spotting the signs. 

“I just can. Quick- stop looking. If they think we’re busy it might put them off,” She reasoned. Cordelia obeyed and peered over Charlottes shoulder to watch her continuing her task of opening and closing apps rapidly. 

“C-Can… Can I get… a picture?” The girl giggled. Too late. 

Charlotte looked up from her phone to see the young girl standing above them.

“Of course you can!” Her face immediately burst into warmth and friendliness, much unlike the woman Cordelia had been sat next to mere seconds ago.

The girl squeaked and thrust her phone towards Cordelia without even looking at her. “Oh, uh- Sure,” She took the phone that had been opened to the camera app before she had approached the pair. With shaky hands Cordelia tried to take a decent photo, but each one came out more blurry than the last. “I’m sorry,” she apologised, her face heating up as she handed the phone back to the girl, “I’m not very good at this.” 

Charlotte herself took the phone from Cordelia’s slim fingers and turned it around, flipping the camera and expertly snapping two selfies of the pair.

“Thank you! Oh my god thank you so much!” The girl exclaimed, before taking her phone back from Charlotte’s outstretched hand and rushing back to her friends with a squeal, immediately pulling up the pictures on her phone. 

“Are they always like that?” Cordelia asked, glancing over at the young girls who were huddled over the phone.

“Only sometimes,” Charlotte laughed, but her face was still in that well-practiced, almost mechanical smile she had used with the girl. 

“How do you cope with it? I could never be able to handle people coming up to me all the time like that,” She bit her lip as she returned her gaze back to Charlotte, who was slowly returning back into the person that Cordelia knew her to be. 

“You just get used to it, I guess,” She shrugged, reaching her hand back down to hold Cordelia’s between the seats again. 

“Well… Just remember that you don’t owe anything to them,” She affirmed, smiling softly at her, but she was busy staring at their intertwined hands.

“Don’t I?” She asked a little sadly. 

“Why would you?” Cordelia’s brows furrowed as she turned a little in her seat towards her. 

“They made me famous, you know? I’d be nothing without my fans,” She sighed, glancing over again at the girls before turning her gaze back to the floor. 

“So what, a group of fans got together and decided to give you the role on _‘Rose Hospital’_ six years ago?” She scoffed.

“No, but-“

“No, they didn’t! And that’s all there is to it,” Delia insisted firmly, a little shocked at herself at the passion behind her words. “You’re famous because you’re talented and you’re good at what you do,” 

Charlotte finally glanced up to see that spark in Cordelia’s eyes and she just couldn’t help herself. With her spare hand she turned Cordelia fully towards her by the shoulder and kissed her fully on the mouth. It was so tender and sweet and Cordelia almost forgot that they had an audience, and much to her chagrin all she could think about while they kissed was those stupid girls and what they might think of them. 

She pulled away but Charlotte’s grip on her shoulder kept the tip of her nose against hers. “Everything okay?” She asked quietly. 

“Are- Are those girls watching us?” She couldn’t help but ask. 

“Yep. And their subtlety is astounding” Charlotte laughed a little, but Cordelia couldn’t find the humour in the situation. 

“Fuck,” She murmured.

“Don’t worry so much Delia,” Charlotte insisted, “They’re just kids. Besides, we’re getting off at the next stop anyway.” She stood and offered her hand to Cordelia, helping her up before they made their way to the train doors to get off. She couldn’t help that her legs felt like jelly, unable to even smile reassuringly at Charlotte as her focus was still trained on the girls who were tapping away furiously on their phones. 

Charlotte’s place was only a short walk from the station, and was not what Cordelia had expected at all. It was only slightly bigger than her place and was extremely messy. 

“You really weren’t expecting company, were you?” Cordelia laughed as she made her way into the living room, glancing at an empty pizza box from her coffee table, which also inhabited multiple used cups and mugs that had yet to be washed and put away. She flopped down onto the grey sofa and within seconds the stress of the day hit her and she felt as if she could easily fall asleep right there and then. 

“Do you want a drink of anything?” Charlotte asked, joining her on the sofa.

“No, I’m good thank you,” Delia murmured sleepily, instinctively shuffling a little closer to Charlotte. 

“Food?” She tried, shifting herself closer to Cordelia.

“No,” She giggled insistently. 

“A kiss?” Her voice was so soft and their faces were mere centimetres away from each other. Delia closed her eyes and let herself lean in to kiss Charlotte softly. Of course, the gentleness didn’t stay for long, the couple soon hungrily kissing each other. Kissing at the theatre came with so much risk. Anything that remotely sounded like a footstep or a door creaking had them jumping ten meters apart from each other in fear of getting caught. But here, in the privacy of Charlotte’s very messy apartment, there was no fear in either of them, and Cordelia could have all of the woman that she wanted. 

Deciding to be a little brave, she let her hands creep under Charlotte’s t-shirt, feeling her flat, toned stomach, and the next thing she knew the other woman was breaking the kiss to fling the shirt off, allowing Cordelia full access to touch her bare skin. As their lips crashed together again, Cordelia moved to straddle Charlotte’s waist and ran her fingers through her soft, shoulder length hair. Suddenly, the other woman was lifting her up and carrying her over to the bedroom, gently lowering her down onto the bed as if she were made of porcelain. 

Her hands flew to undo the pants that Charlotte was wearing, while she unzipped the back of Cordelia’s dress in one swift movement. 

“I thought you were undecided,” Charlotte murmured, dipping her head to kiss insistently at her neck. 

“I was,” She smirked, letting her hand dip into Charlotte’s underwear, “I guess I just make up my mind very quickly. 

.•° ✿ °•.  
°•. ✿ .•°

Cordelia really didn’t know how Charlotte could just fall asleep after that. Every part of her body was buzzing with the thrill of the incredible sex that they had just had, feeling far more awake than she had done all day. 

Deciding that she may as well try to get some sleep, she buried herself down into the duvet. As soon as she way in a lying position, Charlotte mumbled something unintelligible in her sleep and shifted to wrap her arms around Cordelia’s naked form from behind. 

Once Charlotte had completely settled again, she reached out carefully to pull out her phone from the pocket of her dress that lay discarded on the floor. 

Surprisingly, the screen was already lit up, notifications upon notifications flooding through. She squinted, trying to adjust her eyes to the bright screen to decode what was going on, and once she started to focus on the words, her heart dropped to the floor, 

“Char,” She attempted to wake the peacefully sleeping woman, noticing that her own phone on her bedside table was also lit up, “Charlotte!”

“What?” She groaned sleepily.

“Everyone knows,” She whispered anxiously, trying her hardest not to let her breath come out in harsh pants. 

“Knows what?” She mumbled, propping herself up and rubbing her eyes. 

“About this! About us!” She informed her almost hysterically, terrified more of Charlotte’s reaction than anything else. 

“What? How?” That seemed to get her attention as she sat up frantically, snatching her own phone off the bedside table and flicking through the messages.

“I don’t know,” She moaned miserably, “I’ve just got loads of messages from people asking about you,”

She stared again, horrified, at all the messages she had on her phone.

_Cat’s out of the bag. Something going on. Dating a celebrity._

Her gaze flickered to Charlotte who was doing the same as her, and she felt a little guilt at the small part inside of her that was glad that this was out. While she wasn’t particularly thrilled that her private life was now all over the internet, she had never wanted to hide their relationship in the first place. But as she took in Charlotte’s tense jaw and terrified expression, the feeling of fear took over her body. Fear that Charlotte would kick her out and end their relationship; that she’d hate Cordelia and never want to speak to her again. 

“No,” Charlotte murmured, “No, no no! Fuck!” She threw her phone across the room and buried her face into her hands. At that moment Cordelia saw it. There, illuminated on her phone, was the pristine picture of Charlotte kissing Cordelia on the subway earlier that day. 

“We can fix this,” She insisted, unconvincingly. 

“No, Delia, we can’t.” 

“We can!” She exclaimed desperately, “It’s kinda blurry, that could be anyone!”

Charlotte didn’t respond, instead getting up of the bed and throwing a robe on. 

“W- Where are you going?” She asked quietly.

“To call my agent.” She stated simply, before leaving the bedroom without even a second glance to Cordelia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I chickened out of writing a sex scene I'm sorry! Maybe I'll release it as a one shot when I'm done with this story but who knows


End file.
